Fallon's Revenge

by Mackenzie McKade

  It seemed silly to realize this now, but Fallon had never gone through the grieving process. “I never got to say good-bye to Christy, before Chavez consumed my world. When I escaped, revenge and running absorbed me.”

  “Then it’s time.” He scooted off the bed.

  In mere minutes, he was clothed in a tight pair of jeans that hugged his thighs and a solid denim long-sleeve shirt. He was adjusting his black Stetson as she stood.

  Quickly, she dressed in black jeans, a yellow T-shirt and boots to match his. “What are we doing?”

  As he took her hand in his, leading her out the bedroom and down the hall, he said, “The White Mountain community is a magical place. You can feel the spirits of their ancestors walking the land. The Apaches believe you can speak to the dead. If you listen you can hear them.”

  As they entered the living room, Fallon could smell the scent of yeast and bread baking from the kitchen. Voices rose and fell behind the door. Adrian headed straight for the front door, opened it and ushered her through. The night air was cool. Sounds of crickets chirping and an owl hooting greeted them. The sight of Cougar surprised her. He tipped his hat to her, but didn’t say a thing as his bones crackled and popped, his long black braid melting into feathers as he took the form of an eagle.

  Adrian and Fallon shape-shifted into bird form and flew through the sky.

  When they came to the sacred caves that Chavez had held Fallon captive in, Cougar started to descend. Before Fallon and Adrian landed, the man had a small fire burning. He sat crossed-leg before the flames and softly began to chant.

  Adrian led Fallon to where the mountainside dropped off and she looked across the treetops and the beauty that was the White Mountains. The view gave the illusion that she stood so high above the land that if she raised her fingertips above her head she could touch the heavens. Adrian released her hand, kissed her gently on the cheek, and then stepped away.

  The smell of the burning pine, the rise in Cougar’s voice as she stared blindly across the countryside filled her with a serenity she had never felt before. A breeze caressed her face and the smell of baby powder filled her senses. The cloud formations before her shifted against the darkened sky. If she didn’t know better she could have sworn she saw Christy’s cherubic face. Fallon felt the wetness upon her cheeks as tears lightly fell.

  “Oh, baby.” Emotion caught in her throat. Pressure squeezed her heart. “I miss you so much.” She pressed her palm to her mouth to choke back the strangled cry that begged to be released.

  I can do this. Adrian was right. Good-byes needed to be said before she could go forward. Christy was gone. Nothing could change that.

  Fallon gulped down a breath of courage and let her hand fall to her side. “I love you, mommy’s angel.”

  The clouds shifted and the slightest of smiles touched Christy’s mouth before a brisk wind whipped through the gauzy mass that dissipated, replaced by bright shiny stars that twinkled in the night.

  “Good-bye,” Fallon whispered.

  When she pivoted she turned right into Adrian’s arms, which folded securely around her. Within his embrace, she could see the campfire had been extinguished. Cougar was nowhere in sight. Only she and Adrian stood on the mountaintop.

  Chin resting on the top of her head, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Was she?

  The ache in her chest had lessened. Her tears had dried. The baby powder she had smelled was replaced with an earthy scent that was all Adrian as he surrounded her with his love.

  She nodded. “Yes.” Their eyes met. In time she’d be all right, especially with Adrian by her side.

  Fallon angled her head to receive his tender kiss—a kiss that said forever.

  About the Author

  A taste of the erotic, a measure of daring and a hint of laughter describe Mackenzie McKade's novels. She sizzles the pages with scorching sex, fantasy and deep emotion that will touch you and keep you immersed until the end. Whether her stories are contemporaries, futuristics or fantasies, this Arizona native thrives on giving you the ultimate erotic adventure.

  When not traveling through her vivid imagination, she's spending time with three beautiful daughters, two devilishly handsome grandsons, and the man of her dreams. She loves to write, enjoys reading, and can't wait 'til summer. Boating and jet skiing are top on her list of activities. Add to that laughter and if mischief is in order—Mackenzie's your gal!

  To learn more about Mackenzie McKade, please visit www.mackenziemckade.com. Send an email to Mackenzie at mackenzie@mackenziemckade.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Mackenzie! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/macsdreamscape/

  Look for these titles

  Now Available

  Six Feet Under by Mackenzie McKade

  Coming Soon

  Beginnings: A Warrior’s Witch by Mackenzie McKade

  Lost But Not Forgotten by Mackenzie McKade

  Recipe for a Mimosa Night: Take a few libations to loosen inhibitions, mix them with meddling college friends, add in an innocent game of dice, and the result is a steamy cocktail of erotic desires.

  Mimosa Night

  © 2006 Nicole Austin and TK Winters

  Since her husband’s military deployment, Reba has been plagued by dark, secret fantasies. Never before has she had such scandalously carnal needs—needs she can barely share with her husband, let alone anyone else. But her tenacious friends enlist the help of mysterious otherworld partners until she spills every spicy detail.

  During an intimate reunion of college friends, three women share details of their own scorching real-life sexual experiences and the subsequent changes in their lives to help one friend find fulfillment. Things really start to sizzle, though, with an unexpected invitation, a mysterious delivery, and a once-in-a-lifetime offer Reba can’t refuse.

  From cowboys and porn stars to floggers and psi vamps, these ladies sure know how to unleash their fantasies.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Mimosa Night:

  Jeremy Sauvage stood in front of a dark glass door looking sexier than any of the pictures she had secretly drooled over late at night. Tight black leather conformed to slim hips and muscular thighs. Her tongue came out to moisten dry lips, eyes widening while they explored the impressive bulge wonderfully displayed by the confining material of his pants.

  Oh my! She swallowed hard, almost choking. What would it be like to have his large shaft harden in her mouth? Or better yet, filling her pussy?

  His black silk shirt accentuated the width of his broad shoulders. The cuffs were rolled to display muscular forearms covered in silky black hair. Her eyes took in each tendon and muscle running down his arms to end in strong hands with long, sensitive fingers.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined those fingers stroking across her bare skin. He had left his shirt unbuttoned, but tucked into his low riding pants, leaving a wedge of bare chest exposed. Reba couldn’t take her eyes off the swirls of hair descending in an arrow toward tight abs, circling a deep, sexy navel, and pointing the way to his impressive equipment.

  Reba’s labia began to swell, drops of moisture accumulating in her tight curls, while she took in the vision standing before the door. She had stopped several feet from him, and had no idea how long she stood there simply staring, feeling like a deer caught in headlights—frozen in place. Ohmigod…this was either a dream come true or a nightmare in the making.

  She finally lifted her eyes to meet Jeremy’s smoky gray gaze. Reba saw a faint twinkle behind his relaxed expression, and a hint of something else as well. Was it desire causing his pupils to expand, and his gaze to darken?

  He arched one perfect eyebrow, lifted his hand, and motioned her forward with a finger, uttering one womb-clenching word.

  “Come.”

  And she almost did at the sound of his voice. Reba found herself moving forward thinking, mmm-hmm, definitely a dream come true.

  Bowing, he lifted her soft hand toward his
full, sensual lips, feathering a gentle kiss across sensitive skin and fragile bones. She heard him inhale deeply—almost as if he was savoring her scent. Like a connoisseur slowly drawing in the bouquet of vintage wine.

  He rose slowly, keeping her hand captive in his. “Ah, Reba…it will be such a pleasure to finally have you tonight.”

  Say what? Have her? Reba tried to find her voice to object, tell him she was a married woman, but he spun her under his arm, capturing her against his solid chest before she was able to voice a protest. She felt every inch of his strong body pressed against her bare back and shivered in response.

  He whispered melodically, lips brushing the glossy black cap of her hair. “Please forgive me while I complete the formalities of security. Fontaine is very strict about such matters, and I see you have managed to come away without a purse.” He paused, moving closer to the shell of her ear. Dropping his voice even lower he continued, “Perhaps you have identification hidden elsewhere on this lush and glorious body…hmm?”

  Reba had just gathered her breath to say no when his tongue came out to trace each sensitive swirl of her ear. She felt the warm caress all the way down to her toes, which began to curl from the wicked sensual heat Jeremy was creating.

  “Don’t worry, my precious. There are other ways to assure security.”

  “H-how?” Reba squeaked. Jeez. She sounded like a mouse was stuck in her throat.

  Jeremy placed one large hand across her constricted throat. Warmth began to radiate and seep into her skin, loosening the tight muscles, bringing with it a sense of calm.

  “Relax, my dove. There is only pleasure to be found at Fontaine’s.” His voice soothed her and she began to melt into his strong arms.

  “Tell me, my sweet, are you here of your own accord?”

  Reba nodded, her voice finally strong and confident, “Yes. This is a dream come true. I don’t understand why, though. Why me? Why did I get an invitation?”

  “Good,” he sighed. The soft whisper fluttered across her skin. “Perfect. You are here because you wished for it, sweetness, and Fontaine’s is all about fantasy becoming reality.” His hand rose to cup her cheek and draw her head to the side, exposing the long line of her neck. He ran his tongue down the taut tendon as he breathed deeply once again.

  Lord, she sure was melting, but how could she do this? “Jeremy,” she gasped. “I can’t…please.”

  “Everything will be fine. Listen to my voice, feel how it soothes. Your lover wants you to just let go, my dove.”

  As happened before, with the driver, Reba felt a sense of peace wash over her, relieving all her worries. She relaxed, her body softening against Jeremy’s.

  “Yessss…perfect.” The words came out with a growl, and his tongue swirled across her exposed jugular before grasping the beating pulse between his teeth, gently forcing her to hold the position.

  With both hands freed, he began at her shoulders, caressing along her arms before slowly sweeping back again to brush across her full breasts. His cupped palms barely grazed against her nipples, leaving them aching to be touched. He slid a hand beneath each full breast to squeeze and release. Supporting them in his large hands, Jeremy pulled each globe higher, thumbs running down the sensitive tops to tease at the hard, sensitive buds.

  Releasing the lush flesh with a sigh, Jeremy crossed his arms around her ribcage, drawing her body even tighter against his. Rising to his full height, he forced her onto her toes, even in the high heels. Her back arched to maintain the position, silk covered buttocks pushing against his growing erection. She felt his teeth clasp her neck tighter, sending streaks of sensation down to her swollen clit.

  “Jeremy…” she gasped. She had heard the rumors about Devon Fontaine and Jeremy Sauvage. Rumors saying they were different. Other. Vampire. Of course, she didn’t believe any of the gossip for a moment. Vampires were a story to scare children with!

  But now, feeling his teeth grasping her beating pulse, her body arched and stretched as if for display, Reba wondered. Maybe there was something to the rumor after all.

  Jeremy chuckled low in his chest and released her neck, tongue licking across the slight sting. “No worries, dove,” he said. He seemed to have the ability to read her thoughts. “Tonight is not about blood, although I promise, fluids will spill.”

  Keeping one arm tight beneath her breasts, he moved his other hand in a downward exploration, carefully brushing across each centimeter of her body, sinking toward her aching, weeping pussy.

  Why his words did not scare the hell out of her, Reba had no idea. For some reason the sexy man made her feel very calm, horny as all get out, but not frightened in the least.

  “These are simply security measures, sweet,” he continued. “Because you forgot to bring your identification and as I said, Fontaine is very strict about security.”

  What sounded like another growl rumbled through his chest as his hand covered her mound. Grinding his pelvis against the soft cheeks of her ass, he forced his rock-hard erection to part the globes and rest between them. Each minute motion of his hips caused her thong to brush against her tender, virgin back entrance. Jeremy groaned, fingertips smoothing across swollen nether lips to tease her dripping entry through the soft material of her dress.

  “I think the only danger you present, sweet Reba, is to my control.” Slowly he eased her feet back to the ground, both hands steadying her until she found her balance. Her quivering body began to relax once more from the heat of his hands radiating against her skin. Heat which moved inward to pulse through her core like small tendrils of energy were working their way inward, and somehow connected her to Jeremy. Even when he fully released her, Reba still felt those tendrils coiling deep inside.

  Again, she thought maybe she should be scared, but she was too hot to really think of anything except wanting more—more, more, more! Sweet Lord, she hadn’t even seen the inside of the club yet and her little thong was totally drenched. She was barely able to keep her panting breath and fluttering heart under control. And her pussy felt empty and aching, wanting and needing to be filled.

  Laughing softly, Jeremy placed her trembling hand within the crook of his arm, opened the door, and led her into the dark inner sanctum of Fontaine’s.

  Ancient, eternal, magikal, and in love with a woman immune to his charms. The combination can bring even the strongest druid sorcerer to his knees.

  Sacred Places

  © 2006 Mandy Roth

  Coyle O'Caha, a seven-hundred-year-old, immortal druid sorcerer, has one claim to fame—his experience mentoring fledgling witches. Three years ago, he found his soulmate, Deri Sullivan. With Deri haunting his dreams, he can no longer wait to claim her. He’s tired of waiting for her to fall for his charms and see that he’s the man for her. Of course, that’s easier said than done since Deri is immune to both his charm and magik.

  Deri Sullivan’s boss is a real piece of work. Not only is Coyle a millionaire with a body to die for and an attitude to match, but he also has a Scottish lilt which makes her knees weak. He’s a certified ladies’ man. A man she should avoid at all costs. A man she can’t seem to quit dreaming about. A man with whom she wishes she could share her secret. Sometimes love happens at its own pace, other times, a supernatural nudge is needed.

  Enjoy this excerpt from Sacred Places:

  “Yes,” she whispered, not going with what had originally popped into her head. As she stared at the other markings tattooed on his chiseled chest and lower torso, she sighed. If they were true and not just symbols he thought were the hip thing to have permanently placed on his body, then Coyle had a sporting chance of passing her family’s tests. Too bad he wasn’t campaigning for position of husband. Coyle wasn’t even in line for boyfriend. The man seemed to have blinders on when it came to her.

  Speaking of blinders.

  Deri chewed on her lower lip as she stared at Coyle’s body. The man needed to learn to wear a shirt near closing time and after hours or she needed to pray to be immun
e from his natural charms. Either would work. Currently, she spent more time watching him from afar than she did doing anything else. It was pathetic, but she did it all the same.

  The corners of his mouth twitched and for a moment it looked as though he was trying not to laugh. “So, you say you slept well then? Nothing kept you up or hindered yer ability to get a guid night’s rest?”

  As his grey gaze raked over her, Deri shivered. Goose bumps formed on her skin and Coyle began to rub her upper arms and shoulders lightly. She silently cursed herself for wearing the white, ruffle-trimmed camisole. She had a pink wrap blouse back in the office but as the storms had moved in, causing the humidity to rise and most of the patrons to clear out for the night in order to avoid driving in bad weather, she had taken it off. Now, she was left with next to nothing between her and Coyle’s touch. Her nipples hardened to pebble-like points and although Coyle made her heart race, she could do nothing more than stand there, allowing his touch.

  “Yer ice cold, lass. Something a matter?” The teasing tone in Coyle’s voice told her that he knew damn well what the problem was. The arrogant jerk. She had half a mind to cast a spell to make him bark like a dog for a week, but held back. The last thing she wanted was to reveal what she truly was. Somehow the knowledge she was a witch rarely went over well with others. It was why she’d long since given up telling people.

  Korey had managed to guess. It had been made easy for him since he’d walked in to find her using her power to help unload heavy crates of liquor after hours the week prior, but Deri had the sneaky suspicion he’d been on to her even before that. After a mini freak-out, Korey settled and swore he wouldn’t tell Coyle her secret—that he’d leave it for her to reveal. As far as Deri could tell, Korey had done just that.